so many flowers in the clearing of the forest with No fairytales… just cars parked along the way before the old castle in ruins… No crowds of suitors in armour… just a window in a crack in the wall towards a bench of Young lovers……

So there are these chickens We count them Or refrain from it Stopping ourselves Because we shouldn’t There is always the one Trying to cross the road For some philosophical reason everyone wonders about Why the chicken? Why not a cow? Why can’t we just count eggs And…

There is no place like home. There is no place I call home. There are places I come from, there are places I’ve been to, there are places I’m going. There is a space I’m using, a place that’s mine for occupancy, but is it…

  we need to follow the footsteps already there… fresh snow this spring we need to clean from the Apple tree we need to Watch before we need to go again… We need a New house every season

Scrooge has nothing on the toiling ants, whose tireless pursuits are aimed at the simple desperate art of surviving, rather than droves of gold, they march determinedly up to the jar of honey, frantic and clawing each to earn their piece, each tiny pincer set…

When the going gets tough, the tough get milkshakes and go bowling, because it’s Saturday night and the tough need a better work-life balance. You can’t expect the tough to be on call twenty four- seven these days. You don’t earn degrees, you don’t earn…

Why would I tell the world My favorite thing? My most precious Beloved Possession? Are you kidding me? After what I’ve been through? Just to tempt those who want it all? All I’ve got? All I’ve earned? All I’ve ever had? I may as well…

any age young or old can learn so many things happening in his or her life   learning is an unending endeavor learning surpasses all boundaries no matter whatever age level does     keeping into heart whatever learning we have sometime relearning it or unlearning…

Memories, every day, Sewn into a square. It’s past halfway, Multicolored, and it may Be big enough to share.

I am too tired to make a poem now. It’s late, and Hobbits grace my flatted tube. My stomach hurts from eating way too much, But I get bored without a bit to taste. Unorganized, my house, it’s such a mess. Too many jobs. Too…